


right here in my arms, away from all harm

by squorsh



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Anxiety, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, References to Depression, Sadstuck, doc scratch fucks everything up again!, sort of. its kind of obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 02:38:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18459746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squorsh/pseuds/squorsh
Summary: MSPA reader ends up in a bad ending where their anxieties get the best of them and they need a friendly buff clown to comfort them before they're forced to reset.





	right here in my arms, away from all harm

Alternian coffee, as you had recently discovered, kind of tasted like shit.

You were up late that evening – man, being nocturnal still took some getting used to – currently resting in what you considered your bed, which really just consisted of an old blanket and a pillow that Tagora had given you that still somehow retained its plush softness. It was probably the only thing that ensured you got any sort of restful sleep at all. As you peered down into your mug (gifted by Tyzias, naturally), you let out a quiet yawn before taking another tentative sip, quietly smacking your lips afterward. Extra sugar, you realized, definitely helped with the taste.

Scooting back up a bit until your rear hit the stone wall behind you and your pillow rested squarely in the middle of your back, you glanced up. Two crescent moons, pink and green, rested up in the night’s sky visible from what you called your window, but was really just a gigantic chunk of wall missing from your makeshift home. You could easily fall to your death from the thing, and nearly had a number of times. It wasn’t your fault that sitting on a ledge and gazing out upon the vast landscape beneath you could make you fall asleep.

For once, you didn’t feel the urge to rush out and make a new friend. For the moment, you just wanted to enjoy this moment of peace. Sitting on the floor, drinking bad coffee, living in an abandoned building on an alien planet so full of flora and fauna that could kill you at a moment’s notice… this was as good as it got.

You tried to ignore the sudden pang in your chest at the thought, lips curling downward into a small frown and masking it with another sip of your coffee. Hey, it could be worse! You could be dead or dying instead of resting in relative comfort. Heck, you even had a coffee machine! Didn’t that count for something? It definitely did.

The mug hit your lips again, but it stalled before any liquid could accompany it.

… This internal pep talk wasn’t really helping any. If anything, the sharp jab in your chest had only spread, resembling a dull ache that engulfed your upper torso and made your eyes feel heavy, mug lowering down into your lap. You observed a small hole in your blanket for what felt like an hour, when in reality only a moment or so had passed. Eyelids suddenly heavy, you raised a hand to rub at them just as your felt something wet hit your fingers.

An unheard sniff escaped you, moving the mug to rest it on the floor beside you so you could hold your face in both hands. _Come on now,_ you told yourself, _get it together._ _You’re Alternia’s appointed alien on the hunt for friendship! There’s no reason to be sad. What if your friends saw you… like… like…_

Sniffs turned into hiccups, your covered knees moving up to your chest as you buried your face in your arms. This happened almost every night; even with your optimism that kicked in like an energy shot when you were in public, this still happened. You felt like a complete idiot acting like this, but sometimes it was just… too much to handle. With another quiet hiccup, you pulled your face back to wipe at your tears again. Maybe you’d just stay in tonight. Lay on the floor, cry yourself to sleep, work with whatever food you had on hand.

The more you thought, the more a headache felt like it was coming on, so, desperate for a distraction, you reached to your leftmost side and picked up your palmhusk. You scarcely checked the thing until you were fully awake due to the sheer amount of notifications you had and unanswered texts you hadn’t even bothered to leave on read yet. There was one from Tegiri from two days ago, five from Lynera, a couple from Mallek…

The device buzzed in your hands as you were clearing out notifications from Zebede’s Chittr (he had insisted you turn on notifications), startling you and nearly making you drop the phone onto your lap. It was a direct message from Marvus, of all people, simply reading, “hey” and nothing else. Typically, a message from Marvus would make your heart soar and butterflies swarm in your abdomen, but your heart was a little busy feeling cold and heavy at the moment to react in such a way.

He messaged you twice more, and, figuring you had nothing to lose, opened the app and checked. The messages consisted of another hey, but this time with two extra y’s tacked onto the end, and a “:o)” face. Slumping back against the wall and bringing your pillow with you, you held the palmhusk above your face as you texted back a simple, “hey” before plopping it down onto your chest and letting out a heavy sigh.

Wallowing in your bad mood, however, was not in the universe’s plans, for it buzzed upon your sternum almost immediately, then again. Lazily, you picked it up and opened the app again just as it buzzed a third time, ceasing its vibrations as Marvus continued to talk.

                “hope ur not busy or smn”

                “but i just came bck frum the most WICKED fxxkin tour”

                “shit was off the walls ufeelme”

                “literally n figuratively :o)”

Thinking about excrement was certainly not in your plans for the day, but when it came to Marvus’ concerts, you guessed it was inevitable. God, trolls were fucking weird. The palmhusk buzzed again, and you looked back down to your ever-growing message wall, speech bubbles enveloped in purple.

                “anyway anyway”

                “I fxxkin missed u tbh :o(“

                “was wonderin if we culd mb chill tf out”

You were sent an image then: a selfie that must have just been taken. It was a bit blurry and not well cropped, the top of Marvus’ head being cut off in favor of a rather gracious view of his chest due to the deep neck of his shirt. Maybe it was on purpose? Either way, you tore your eyes away from his “DOWN TO CLOWN” tank top and up to his face. His dark hair fell around his face a bit messier than it usually did, free hand raised in a “rock on” gesture with his tongue out. He seemed relaxed, slouched back on a dark red couch with blankets haphazardly tossed over its back. Another text appeared under it.

                “im just chillin lmao”

                “we could get pizza or smthn”

                “if ur down ofc no pressure babe”

Once you were certain that he was done talking, you let the messages sink in. On one hand, you could continue to lay on a cold, hard floor and wallow in how awful you felt, which, truth be told, sounded pretty inviting, or you could go visit a friend and try to cheer yourself up. The second option felt somewhat… strained, in a way. As soon as you graced Marvus’ doorstep, you’d probably have to be on your best behavior and make sure you didn’t fuck up, more than likely being presented with choices you really, really didn’t feel like making today.

But your fingers were already sending a robotic, “sure, sounds fun! be there asap” back before you could convince yourself otherwise, mentally kicking yourself for doing such a thing. Damn you and your weird self-proclaimed obligation to please others. Fine. _Fine_. This would be over with soon, and then you could come back home and think about how sad you were if you wanted to.

You pushed the blanket back and moved to stand, getting to your feet and shuffling over to a cardboard box that you had generously started calling your dresser. It held what little clothes you had, your hands reaching for Mallek’s hoodie before you could even stop to think about dressing up nicely to see Marvus. The hoodie brought you comfort, you tried to rationalize as you slipped it over your head, its hem resting just above your knees. The thing was basically a sweater dress, and as such, you decided that today did not feel like a day to wear pants, only slipping on your shoes and running a hand over your head.

Pocketing your palmhusk, you stepped over the makings of your “bed” and headed to the exit. Your stolen scuttlebuggy awaited you next to the tower, its engine purring as you slipped into the driver’s seat. After setting the autopilot, it took off, you fastening your seatbelt and slumping back in the seat with both hands in your hoodie pocket.

Eventually it took you out of the rural area you called home, leading you to Outglut and puttering down the road. Trolls walked here and there along the sidewalks, not a one turning to glance at you. You didn’t know why they would, but you didn’t know. Maybe the thought of someone looking at you and seeing how gloomy you appeared and wondering, ‘wow, I hope that person is okay’ brought you a sense of bizarre comfort. Maybe that was just weird.

Not wanting to stare any more, your hands slipped out of your pocket to yank your hood down, covering your eyes so all you could see with your slouched posture was your own lap. You stayed like that for some time, the minutes feeling like hours and everything feeling like it wasn’t entirely there.

You snapped out of your daze when the scuttlebuggy came to a stop, peering up from under your hood to find that you were in an area you’d never been in before. It seemed fairly isolated, though you could make out buildings in the distance. Speaking of buildings, the one you were parked in front of was a damn doozy.

Zebruh’s hive looked pathetic in comparison; Marvus’ house resembled a manor, three stories tall with a porch with an ornate staircase leading up to the front door. Attached to it was a large garage, but you wondered why. You assumed Marvus just had people drive him everywhere. Speaking of which, there were no camera crews around, either. Maybe they couldn’t follow him inside his house? Every celebrity had the right to privacy, you guessed, but the shuffling of a bush near the leftmost window had you guessing if paparazzi was just as much of an issue on this planet as it was on yours.

Not wanting to awkwardly sit in your buggy for god knows how much longer, you reluctantly undid your seatbelt and stepped out onto the smooth pavement beneath you, nudging the lock before closing the door and walking around it. At the sound of water trickling, you turned around. The parking area was a wraparound circle of pavement in front of the house, and in the center sat a fountain containing two troll cherubs pouring water into the basin below. Their horns were curved, faces painted and donning traditional clownlike garb.

You had convinced yourself that if you touched the railing next to the porch stairs it would somehow dirty them up, so you stuffed your hands in your hoodie pocket as you carefully stepped up to the front door, its wood a pristine white with ornate golden décor all leading to a rather old-fashioned looking door knocker. It was the head of some dude with tall curved horns, you retracting a hand from your pocket to gingerly hold the knocker in your thumb and forefinger to rap it against the door once, then twice, hoping that was proper door knocking etiquette.

As you waited, you glanced around again, suddenly feeling quite small. Everything was so fancy, and while you had expected a celebrity like Marvus to have a fancy house, this was… a lot. Did every purpleblood live so lavishly? If that was the case, you couldn’t begin to imagine what seadwellers’ homes were like.

Your posture straightened and your head whipped around when the front door was unlocked and opened. You felt a bit of your tension lessen at the sight of the man standing before you, because really, how _couldn’t_ you when you were around someone like Marvus? He looked so starkly different in comparison to what you were used to: the tall troll donned the tank top you had seen in his selfie alongside a pair of boxer shorts with a cute little horn pattern on them, his fingers devoid of rings and fuzzy bunny slippers upon his feet. His hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, and the whole ensemble made him seem more human, despite that not being an applicable term in such circumstances.

“Hey,” he greeted, giving you a toothy grin, “Glad you could make it; love the shirt.” Was he being patronizing? No, he was too earnest to be patronizing, and the smile on his face and the gentle crinkle at the corner of his eyes due to it were too genuine. “Wanna come in?”

You only nodded, stepping inside when he moved to let you in, the door closing behind the two of you. The interior of his home was just as fancy as you had expected, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still blown away by what you were looking at. It was clean and lavish, but yet homey all the same. Jackets and the like hung casually off of backs of chairs and at the end of one of the nearby staircase railings, there was a desk against the wall opposite of the stairwell with papers strewn upon it, and you could see from where you stood that the kitchen in the distance was a bit of a mess.

“Home sweet home, heh,” Marvus remarked from behind you, stepping around to stand at your side with his arms folded casually over his chest. “Sorry it’s kinda messy; you know how it be. So, you hungry? And uh, if you are, what do you like on your pizza?”

Briefly wondering why out of all things pizza didn’t have a weird alternate name on this planet, you pushed it aside and replied with, “Yeah, I could go for a slice, sure…”

Your voice wasn’t as enthusiastic as you’d hoped it was. When there was silence, you looked up at him – literally, because he was at least a foot taller than you – and upon noticing his raised, expectant brows, you realized you hadn’t answered his question. Quickly, you stammered, “H-hey, whatever you want is cool with me…”

His head tilted a bit, panic almost immediately welling in your chest at the fear of fucking up an answer for some reason, but the troll only smiled, teeth peeking out from under his upper lip. “Tell you what. How’s about we make the pizza instead of ordering it?” His broad shoulders moved upwards in a shrug before lowering again, arms still folded. “That’ll give ya time to pick out what you want on it.”

Make it from scratch? You weren't much of a cook. You weren't much of anything, really. Marvus, however, just kept smiling and gestured with his chin to follow him before walking off towards the kitchen. After a moment's hesitation, you followed him, hands instinctively moving back to your pocket.

Marvus' kitchen was messy, but moreso in the cluttered sense. It just needed a little TLC, but you weren't about to offer to power clean his kitchen for him. You weren't _that_ nice. The clown turned to look at you with that same smile and asked, "You know anything about cooking?"

You mused over your options. If you lied and said yes, he might expect you to demonstrate your skills that you absolutely did not have, but if you told the truth, what if he got frustrated? What if tonight's lunch hung in the balance because of you? Somewhat panicked, you stammered, "I don't really know a lot about it..."

Marvus, to your relief, only chuckled and admitted, "Yeah, me neither... but I can Goregle it and find out. NBD." He said the abbreviation out loud, which sounded weirder than it should have. The man turned around and leaned against the counter, tapping away on his palmhusk. "Alright... I think I've got everything we need to make this shit. Perks of having a massive pantry, eh?"

He was grinning at you in a familiarity sort of way, as if to say, _hey, sure is cool being rich. Don't you relate?_ Which you didn't, and you doubted you ever would. Your head was starting to hurt. Forcing a smile, you nodded twice so as to not appear too curt as you replied with a simple, but hopefully eloquent, "Yeah."

Marvus' reply was in the form of a patient smile, turning around to prop his palmhusk on the counter. It kept slipping down, so he eventually put boxes on either side of it to hold it steady, nodding once it didn't fall down. A house this big, and yet he didn't own a phone stand. If Alternia had its own version of Christmas, you pondered seeing if you could get him one whenever it rolled around.

"First, we gotta make the dough," he proclaimed, quickly washing his hands in the sink and flicking them dry before moving to what you assumed was the pantry. Pushing up your sleeves, you turned on the sink, praying that the bottle you grabbed for soap was in fact soap as you squirted some onto your hands to begin washing them.

"It doesn't look too hard," called Marvus from the pantry, voice echoing - how big even was that thing? "Just clear off the counter for me, and I'll be there in a sec!"

Trying to ignore your wandering thoughts about whether or not Marvus' pantry was so big it had its own zip code, you rolled up your sleeves and shoved some of the clutter aside. Thankfully, it wasn't anything like old food or mold; Marvus just... didn't seem to remember that he had cabinets.

Your companion headed back over with ingredients in his arms, a measuring cup dangling off of his pinkie finger and the arm of a whisk held between his teeth. Carefully, he set them all on the counter and reached into a cabinet afterward, taking out what you assumed was wax paper and pulling out a decent amount of it to place down.

“We’ve basically just gotta mix a bunch of shit together and made dough out of it,” he explained, already pouring things like flour and yeast onto the wax paper. “That’ll be the fun part. Could you pass the sodium dispenser?”

You hadn’t realized that you were just sort of standing there awkwardly, only halfway hearing what he was saying. Startled, you looked over and reached for the only thing that resembled a salt shaker, passing it to him. He thanked you and got back to work, your hands involuntarily slipping back into your hoodie pocket. It seemed like they were doing that a lot lately.

“So, how’s your night been goin’?” asked the man as he shoved his hands in the mixture and began to, well, mix. Spoons, you supposed, were sort of obsolete when it came to making dough. The question didn’t really register, and you instinctively answered, “Fine,” as you realized all of a sudden that you weren’t typically asked that. Sure, you were asked questions by many of your friends, but seldom did one actually ask you how you had been doing, or what you had been up to. Well, they did, but it was always followed up with some sort of request or conversation switch.

You waited for that to come, but Marvus only smiled and looked back to his dough-in-the-making, pulling and pushing at it. “Good to hear.” Standing there, somewhat dumbfounded, you watched as he worked at the substance with his hands, grey fingers speckled with flour. Rather quickly, you realized that you didn’t ask him how his night was going, and that that was kind of rude. You stammered, “H-how’s yours been? How was the tour?”

"It's been alright," he replied, adding a bit more salt to the dough before continuing to knead it. "Better now that I've got company." The man flashed a smile at you, and you felt a subtle thud against your chest, but it passed over quickly when he looked away again. "The tour... damn, what _didn't_ happen on the tour? You should totally come on the next one; I can save you a spot on the one and only Xoloto Party Bus."

The thought of Marvus not only having a bus, but also a "party bus" seemed like one of the most fitting things for him that you had ever heard. "Here," he suddenly spoke, taking a step to the side. "Wanna help? I can get this side; you get that one."

Briefly, you looked down at your hands, then up to his, following them upward over his muscular arms. This was going to be embarrassing, but you couldn't say no, right? With a small nod, you stepped over to stand beside him, pushing your sleeves up to your elbows before placing your hands tenatively upon the dough. It was cooler than you had expected, and quite squishy.

"Like this," Marvus advised, pulling and pushing at it. "It's pretty sick; give it a try, lil' buddy." Experimentally pushing at the dough, you were unsurprised to find it didn't have as much give in comparison to Marvus'. But damn it, you were entrusted to make this dough, and you couldn't let the clown down!

... Any pep in such a statement fizzled out like a dud matchstick, and you instead focused on trying to knead it at your own pace and not feel intimidated. Marvus was gripping and rolling it like it was nothing while your knuckles were growing white as you tried to handle it properly, brow creasing with frustration.

Eventually, as you continued, it let up a bit more, becoming easier to knead, even if it was still a bit of a struggle. Your arms were growing sore, but whenever you glanced up at Marvus, trying desperately to convey through your expression that you really, really hated doing this, he only flashed you a small, kind smile and occasionally added a wink in for extra measure. It’s what kept you going, even if your will to keep your mouth shut was dwindling.

“That should be good,” hummed the man, startling you and causing your hands to stall. You lifted them from the dough, Marvus adding yours to his pile and doubling it over and stretching it one final time before dropping it unceremoniously down onto the countertop. Quickly, he stepped over to the sink and washed his hands, drying them off on a towel and crossing the kitchen to find something - a rolling pin, most likely.

Moving to wash your hands, you turned on the faucet, warm water moving over and around your fingers. Movement was seen in the corner of your eye, followed by something softly hitting the counter and moving; Marvus must have been rolling the dough. He was pretty good at this, actually. Way better than you by a long shot. But hey, at least you kind of knew how to make pizza dough now, even if you had absolutely no means to make yourself pizza in your house.

You started a bit when a hand touched your shoulder, and you suddenly realized that you had been standing over the sink with your hands draped over the edge, water flowing freely into the drain. Your friend’s touch brought you both comfort and hesitation, looking up at his surprised, yet concerned expression. “Hey,” he spoke up after the longest, tensest moment you had ever experienced, “you alright?”

Well, “alright” was a subjective term, you thought to yourself. You didn’t really feel much of anything at the moment. This was mostly due to the fact that you were _realizing_ that you didn’t feel anything, unless you counted a dull, hazy apprehension as something to feel. Instead of giving such a convoluted answer, you only replied as chipperly as you could, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Marvus decided against pushing it, only giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze and releasing you. “Well… now that the dough’s done, we gotta pick out toppings. I’ll put the sauce n’ shit down.” He moved over to the ingredients upon the counter he must have gotten while you were busy spacing out over the sink, unscrewing the cap of a sauce(?) bottle and pouring it onto the dough. Followed by that was cheese, the man asking as he sprinkled it on, “What do you like on yours?”

You doubted that Alternia held foods resembling pineapple or ham, and if it did, they probably weren’t used for pizza toppings. Actually, thinking of anything that trolls might put on pizza was making your stomach churn more than it was already. “Uh,” you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat, “I just like mine plain…”

“No fuckin’ way,” he replied, but before you could hold your breath, he only smiled over at you whilst brushing his hands off on his front and added, “me too. I either want a plain ‘za, or one with fuckin’ everything on it.” He talked as he slid the pizza onto a pan and picked it up, “And I’m talking _everything_. You wouldn’t be able to see the cheese by the time I was done with the thing.”

With a hum, Marvus slid the tray into his oven, which was slightly pulsating, but then again, what the hell kitchen appliance _didn’t_ pulse and/or writhe on this goddamn planet? After setting the timer, he let out a sigh of content and turned to you with another smile. “How’s about we go chill and wait for that to cook?”

“Sure,” you replied instinctively, walking after him as he exited the kitchen. He led you down a hallway and made a left, then entered the first open doorway. The two of you stood in an expansive living room, a wraparound couch and big screen television at one end complete with a mini fridge and minibar, consoles and controllers beneath the television. That was where Marvus was headed, standing with his back to the couch and falling back onto it until he was in a comfortable sitting position.

You made your way around the couch until you stood nearby, wondering whether or not to sit beside him or keep a cushion’s distance between the two of you. At a raised, confused eyebrow from the clown, you quickly decided to sit beside him, posture stiff with your hands in your hoodie pocket. Again.

Silence passed over the two of you, and you really wished he had turned on the television or something. Anything was better than this steadily growing awkwardness that was making your stress headache start to really manifest. But then, he spoke, startling you a bit and causing you to visibly start.

“Thanks for comin’ over,” he said, and when you hesitantly glanced over, he was smiling at you. God damn that stupid, lovable, toothy smile. Even your bad mood couldn’t linger when _that_ was looking you right in the face. “I, uh… don’t usually have people over. Can’t trust anyone nowadays… so this is real nice. You’re good company.”

 _Because you did what was expected of you,_ your head told you, which made your brow crease at the very thought. Where had that even come from? Where was any of this coming from? “No problem,” you replied quickly. “I’m happy to help…”

The way your sentence trailed off caused his head to tilt a bit in curiosity, and you mentally kicked yourself for it. People didn’t typically pick up on your apprehension. Marvus rested his arms over the back of the couch leisurely and replied, “See, that’s the thing; I don’t think you gotta even try to help to help me. Just being here, hanging out… it’s nice, heh.”

He smiled again, but its effect was dwindling, steadily being replaced with what felt like guilt. Your gaze dipped down your lap, your polite smile fading.

“This place is a lot like the church,” he suddenly said, confusion crossing your features at the comment. “Y’know how I told ya that place was safe? That’s what my house is kinda like… it’s safe. Or I guess I am, I dunno… point is, you’re safe around me.”

Church? When did you go to church with Marvus? Though, something twinged in your memory at the thought – a bizarre sense of déjà vu you had felt more times than you could count at that point. Marvus kept talking.

“Sometimes,” he mused, somewhat thoughtfully, “it’s alright to be sad. Not everything has to be happy n’ shit, you feel me? Especially on a goddamn planet like this… fuck, I dunno how people ain’t more depressed. Maybe it’s outta self-defense.” Even if you were still looking at your lap, you could take note of the motion of him raising his broad shoulders in an upwards shrug before dropping them. “I can’t imagine what it’s like for someone who ain’t even from around here. Fuck, man.”

No, he really couldn’t. He couldn’t begin to imagine how it felt – how it felt to wake up every morning with a crick in your back from sleeping on a hard floor, to feel like every breath you take may be your last on this godforsaken planet, to go to sleep wondering if something will climb up your tower and kill you, never allowing you to see another Alternian sunset. “It’s fine,” you replied robotically with a voice lacking any sort of the oomph it typically held. You guessed you had ran all out of oomph.

“But it’s not, ain’t it?” the clown said, phrased moreso as a statement rather than a question. You looked up at the man in confusion, a pang of guilt hitting you in the chest as if you had made a wrong decision, but he was all smiles. He had a lot of variations of smiles, now that you noticed. You had become so used to the toothy, dumb grin and the smirk that caused dozens of teens to drop dead (you wished that was an exaggeration) at his concerts that the softer, patient ones seemed almost foreign. “It’s ‘aight to not be fine. Nobody’s fine all the time; pretendin’ that you are is just gonna make you all stressed. Shit,” He suddenly kicked his feet up, crossing them on top of the coffee table dangerously close to a stray horn, “even _I’m_ not happy all the time. And look at me, huh?”

He raised his arms up a bit, looking around the room as if to reference it, then dropped them back down behind the couch. “I’m in the damn prime of my life, huh? They don’t even want me off planet ‘cause I rake in too much dough. Money, fame, tons of fans… but none a’that is gonna make me happy. Sittin’ around in this empty ass house with nothing to do and nobody to talk to… it gets me down. Makes me start thinking about shit and how screwed up our goddamn world is.”

This was pretty heavy coming from Marvus of all people. It momentarily distracted you from your own existential crisis, your hands tucking into the sleeves of your hoodie to rest in your lap. He continued, “But I try to find happiness in the lil’ things. Things like how the crowd’ll sing my songs back to me on stage, or the colors of the sunset out my window when I wake up every evening. It gets me through the night, yeah?” Turning his head to look back down at you, he grinned again, this one toothier than the previous ones – more reminiscent of one of his normal grins, but this one caused his eyes to slightly crinkle at the corners. “That’s why this – like, what we’re doing right now – is so nice. Just hanging out with a pal, makin’ pizza, sitting on a couch and talking… it’s made my night loads better than it was before you came over.

“Now,” he continued, still smiling as he tilted his head a bit at you, “I’ve been running my mouth way too much; talk to me. What’s on your mind, buddy?”

You felt your body lock up, throat feeling tight, as if you were under interrogation rather than simply being asked what you want to talk about. You didn’t know _what_ to talk about. Your current state of existential dread and self-doubt? How you wanted to go home and sleep and throw your palmhusk out the tower window? The weather?

“Nothing,” you replied, forcing the corners of your lips to move upward in what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind you talking; you can keep going – it’s fine…”

“Buddy,” Marvus repeated, tone gentler than it had been before as he observed you patiently, “you can talk to me. Just let it all out; keeping it in is just gonna make you sick n’ shit.”

 _But it would make him upset,_ you told yourself. _He would be annoyed, uncomfortable, and irritated. You would lose him as a friend and nothing you could ever do would clear the awkwardness that it would result in_. Your head panged with memories – memories you knew didn’t exist, and yet they felt too real to be daydreams. Of saying the wrong thing and having people walk away from you without a second thought, of fucking up and causing injury to your friends while they looked at you with an expression of hurt, upset, betrayal. The tightness in your chest grew wider, feeling weightless for just a second. And suddenly, it all came out.

“I’m scared,” you stammered, face feeling full and tears moving upward to your eyes only to spill out and down your cheeks in thin, wet lines. “I’m sc-scared I’m gonna fuck up and that you’ll be mad at me, or that I’ll mess something up and make you get hurt – “ The thought made your head pang with pain, a hand moving upward to hold it as you winced. You _had_ hurt him. Right? You were heading to clown church, and he got hit with something because he was trying to protect you… but if that was true, why was he here, completely unscathed? Why couldn’t you remember anything after church? Why did the memory of church feel like a daydream that had fallen to the deepest pits of your memory?

You felt like your body was being pushed in an invisible compressor, pressure crushing you and making it feel as if you couldn’t breathe. At this point, you didn’t know if something was actually happening or if it was your stupid emotions fucking with you. Words escaped you, only descending into helpless, soft hiccups as you rubbed at your eyes with the sleeves of your hoodie. Somehow, you managed a quiet apology, shoulders curling inward and beginning to shake.

The pressure seemed to dwindle when you felt a large hand rest itself on your shoulder. Looking up, you were somewhat grateful your vision was blurred to obstruct the clown’s expression, but his tone was earnest as he spoke, “You couldn’t screw up shit with me if you tried, buddy. Bein’ upset isn’t a bad thing, and neither is bein’ confused, or making mistakes, or whatever your head’s trying to lie to you about.” He poked his index finger against your skull for emphasis. “Trust me.”

“B-but people have left me before,” you said, wincing as another sharp pain spread over your skull, pulse throbbing loudly in your ears alongside it. “A-at least, I think they have; I… I’ve been confused or said the wrong thing, and people j-just…” Any tears you had blinked away came back full force, your face falling into your palms as you hiccuped into them, voice muffled, “l-leave me, and I have to d-do what they want… it’s th-the only way I’ve been able to make friends and have a-any kind of letup on this planet I _didn’t even want to be on in the first place!_ ”

The last words came out in the form of a scream, voice hoarse as you continued to stammer, “I stole a spaceship like an _idiot_ and I crashed here like an _idiot_ and I keep fucking up and scaring people away and all I know how to do anymore is nod and say yes because it’s the only way I can survive here because I’m a fucking _IDIOT!”_ Unable to form any other words, you dissolved into hiccupping tears, pulling your knees to your chest and feeling smaller than you ever had. Pain was coming over you in waves, stronger than any headache you’d ever had. For a minute, you felt the couch shift and seem to fizzle, but you were a little more preoccupied with your breakdown than the state of reality at the moment.

You felt something wrap around your waist, your body jolting at the sudden touch, but all at once you were held to Marvus’ chest, two muscular arms holding you snugly against him. He didn’t say a word, yet somehow that just made you cry more, arms scrunched against your chest and face buried in his shirt, dampening it with tears. You couldn’t understand why he was being so nice; you were being a screwup, an idiot, a nuisance – he had _just_ said his day was better because of you, and here you were fucking it up –

“Listen,” he said, causing your hiccups to quiet at his soft, patient tone. “I’m not gonna pretend like I know what it’s like to go through this kind of thing… but you don’t gotta go through it alone. You’ve got lots of friends who care about you, even if it might feel superficial to you sometimes.” His hand rested on your back, warm even through the fabric of your hoodie. “You don’t have to be someone you’re not just to be their friend. You’ll forget who you were to begin with if you do that too much.”

His words felt like they were piercing a haze over your mind, panic growing alongside the pain spreading to the rest of your body and down your neck, feeling as if you could hardly breathe. “Th-that’s just it; I don’t… I don’t know who I am, I don’t know what I am aside f-from someone who’s just nice and compliant with everything people s-say…” Your hands found his shirt, gripping the fabric so tightly they began to shake as tears fell helplessly down your cheeks. “Marvus, I d-don’t know who I am…”

The man shushed you, but it was a gentle sound as he carefully rubbed your back, pulling your smaller form up against his chest and cradling you in his lap. “I might not have the answers, and I know somethin’ fuckin’ weird is going on with Alternia and the universe right now… but it’s affecting you the most.” He glanced downward, and you heard another faint fizzling sound accompanying the motion. “I’ll tell you who you are, kid. You’re a good person with a good heart. That’s somethin’ this planet’s pretty sparse with right now.”

A hand moved over your head, the other arm supporting you in the crook of the clown’s elbow. Everything was so blurry and everything hurt, a white noise ringing in your ears. For a moment, you felt like you were floating, and with a frightened yelp, you held onto him even tighter, Marvus holding you even closer still to his front in response. “You’ve got ambitions and shit you wanna do and people you wanna see again… so hang in there until you can get back home, alright?” You felt the hood of your top being pulled up and over your head, and when you sniffed and looked up, you were met with a patient and somehow understanding painted face with a smile so gentle it seemed like something from fiction.

The pressure that had been pushing on you ever since you sat down was growing worse, the floating feeling still there. It felt as if reality was being pulled at the seams, and you could have sworn that your friend’s features were distorting every other time you blinked, alongside everything else in the room around you. Fearfully, unable to speak, you only let out a strained hiccup, throat tight and full from your crying. Marvus, despite this, seemed to understand, wrapping both arms around you again and holding you tightly to his chest as your body shook and the air grew denser and denser, feeling as if your body was pulling apart at the metaphorical seams and the universe was struggling to maintain itself.

The white noise in your ears had turned into loud ringing, eyes clenching shut and burning with tears, and even Marvus’ heartbeat was being drowned out by the sounds and sensations ripping at you and making you wonder, briefly what you must have done wrong to cause this. And yet, there was no anger or tension coming from the clown; only patience, kindness, comfort, and… acceptance. You felt something press against your head just as you let out a yell of fear as the gravity in your body seemed to leave and everything was turning white –

 

 

Alternian coffee, as you had recently discovered, kind of tasted like shit.

You were up late that evening – man, being nocturnal still took some getting used to – currently resting in what you considered your bed, which really just consisted of an old blanket and a pillow that Tagora had given you that still somehow retained its plush softness. It was probably the only thing that ensured you got any sort of restful sleep at all. As you peered down into your mug (gifted by Tyzias, naturally), you let out a quiet yawn before taking another tentative sip, quietly smacking your lips afterward. Extra sugar, you realized, definitely helped with the taste.

Scooting back up a bit until your rear hit the stone wall behind you and your pillow rested squarely in the middle of your back, you glanced up. Two crescent moons, pink and green, rested up in the night’s sky visible from what you called your window, but was really just a gigantic chunk of wall missing from your makeshift home. You could easily fall to your death from the thing, and nearly had a number of times. It wasn’t your fault that sitting on a ledge and gazing out upon the vast landscape beneath you could make you fall asleep.

You weren’t quite ready to go out and seize the day, as it were, so you figured some coffee would help speed things along. Maybe you would go visit Stelsa and Tyzias to see what they were up to; they were always a welcoming pair of smiling faces to see. Or maybe you could visit Galekh and help him tidy up a bit to keep yourself busy. Even if you never knew what he was talking about, his voice was pleasant to listen to, like someone you’d hire to read audiobooks. Maybe that’s something he should look into, actually.

Taking another sip of your coffee, your head lightly hit the wall as it leaned back, it tilting to the side in thought. An odd lingering pain was in your chest, but it was likely just because you woke up a bit earlier than usual. It reminded you of how you felt whenever you had had a good, hard cry, but you hadn’t cried recently – not since Charun dropped what you could only assume was the Alternian version of a toaster on your foot a few days beforehand. Deciding to brush it off, you glanced down to your palmhusk sitting beside you, finally picking it up and unlocking it.

At the rows of missed messages, you felt a pang of guilt cross your mind, and briefly, you wondered if it was okay to keep ignoring them. You just didn’t feel like answering them anymore, and thinking about doing so just made you feel anxious. What if it was poor texting etiquette to wait so long to reply? That’s how it was on your planet, at least in your eyes, but leaving them alone was just as uncomfortable to deal with. Why did socializing have to be so complicated?

Sighing to yourself, you stared down at the phone, not pressing anything as your brows creased and the hand holding your mug fought the urge to tremble. This was ridiculous. _You_ were being ridiculous. Just be a decent friend already and reply to someone – 

At your next exhale, you started a bit, suddenly picking up on another odd feeling over your body – a lingering warmth reminiscent of a blanket. It was centered around your waist and side, your palmhusk being placed down on your covered lap so you could hold a hand to your chest. It… reminded you of a hug, but much like the pain from before, there was no reason you would feel something like that. Yet even still, a sort of calm brushed over you as you focused on the feeling, eyes closing and almost seeming to inhale the comfort.

Cracking them open, you looked down at the palmhusk with a silent, studious gaze, eventually placing your coffee mug down to pick it up and open an old text message from Vikare, your fingers beginning to type. That odd, foreign comforting feeling stayed with you as you did so, getting a happy response from the young man almost immediately, a smile crossing your lips at the troll’s variations of excited “what ho’s” and “by the heavens’” and such. These… were your friends. They would understand, and it was alright. You weren’t a screwup. Why, you didn’t really know, but… at a }8D from your old friend, phone illuminating your smile in the darkness of the open room, you had a feeling that everything was going to be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> i started this fic MONTHS ago and i thought it would be nice to finally finish it up for 4/13. i'm a little rusty so i just hope it's alright! thanks if you read this far :')


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